


Crib Sheet

by Lisse



Series: really dumb Supernatural crossovers [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Bleach, Firefly, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: 5 Things, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-31
Updated: 2010-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisse/pseuds/Lisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five notes from John Winchester’s book that his sons never figured out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crib Sheet

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as "How many fandoms can I awkwardly cram into Supernatural?"

  
**crib sheet**   


* * *

**i. “Keep an eye out for Kanayurak’s kids.”**

Jonah Kanayurak’s little sister is and always has been dangerous. She’s special in a way that may or may not involve things with yellow eyes and mothers burning over their children’s cribs, and although she’d never actually boil someone’s blood in their veins, she certainly _could_ if she wanted to. There’s probably a reason their dad taught him how to hunt creepy-crawlies and not her.

(Of course, their dad also left two years ago to try and find whatever killed their mom – and his phone’s gone straight to voicemail ever since – so while Jonah still hero-worships him, his opinion doesn’t carry quite the same weight it used to.)

The point is that dangerous or not, Miali is also his know-it-all bossy baby sister, and he shouldn’t be surprised at her gift for finding weird shit.

Like this kid, for instance.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” he grumbles, because the kid’s not acting cold despite being dressed for somewhere below the Arctic Circle – otherwise known as _not anywhere near here_ – and he doesn’t seem to have any idea how the hell he got here in the first place. “I’m not trying to stab him or anything. Geez.”

Miali glares at him and folds her arms. “How is poking him with a giant silver knife not stabbing?”

“That’s what I was wondering,” the kid says.

Jonah ignores him. “It is totally not stabbing. And what if he’s some kind of freaky demon, huh?” (“Hey!” says the kid.)

“He is _not_ a demon. You tried your Latin on him already.”

“He sneezed!”

“Do his eyes look black to you?”

“It could be a demonic sneeze!”

Miali gives him a _look_. The kid just stands there looking bewildered by the whole conversation – and admittedly not looking the slightest bit evil, but still.

Jonah throws his hands up in defeat. “You know what? Fine. If _you_ want to tell Gran-Gran why we let some freaky creature of the night into our house, be my guest!”

He storms away, leaving Miali to make unnecessarily loud exasperated noises after him.

_Sisters._

* * *

**ii. “Don’t cross her.”**

There is a rule in Hell that goes something like this:

Certain people are exceptions. They are off limits. No argument. No questions asked.

It has to do with fate. Sure, there’s destiny and prophecy and all that stuff, but this is stronger. It’s not what must happen or should happen or what everyone says will happen – it’s just what’s _going_ to happen.

That’s why for the past sixteen years or so, there has been no supernatural activity whatsoever around one particular boy. There’s something he’s going to do in the future, and it wouldn’t do to interfere with that. There are worse things than the end of the world to worry about.

(And in case any demon ever feels the exceptions don’t apply to them, there’s a corollary to the rule that goes like this:

Do not meddle in the affairs of John Connor, because his mother is fucking scary.)

* * *

**iii. “Kabrowski isn’t human.”**

Jacob Kabrowski’s son Isaac can see ghosts and demons the same way everyone else sees regular people. That’s what gets his mother killed – no hunter will ever tell him that, but everyone knows it, even Isaac.

His father’s clinic treats people with strange or unexplainable injuries. There are no questions asked, minimal admission requirements – drink holy water, walk over a devil’s trap – and payment takes the form of favors rather than money. Jacob is a doctor, after all. He may be built like a linebacker and have a seven-year-old’s sense of humor, but he’s still the doting family man his wife married, and Isaac and his two little sisters are still the center of his world. Maybe other spouses would have given them up to go hunting, but he won’t.

When Lucifer decides to pay a visit to the clinic, Isaac takes one look at his face and tells his sisters go play outside _right now_. He stays between them and their visitor until they’re safely out of sight, moving just a fraction faster than most people, suspicious glare never leaving whatever it is he sees wearing a normal person’s face.

“Your son’s not very normal,” Lucifer says to Jacob. He waits until Isaac’s out of earshot; he’s nothing if not polite.

There’s a big picture of Jacob’s wife hanging in the clinic’s waiting room, where they’re sitting now. Something of her personality shows through - a cheerful woman, in love with life and unafraid of anything.

“That so?” Jacob sounds like he’s talking about the weather. He’s slouched in a chair, apparently unconcerned about the Devil being anywhere near him. “You didn’t come here to tell me that.”

“No, of course not.” Lucifer doesn’t sit. “I was hoping you might be persuaded to join me, actually.”

Jacob glances at the calendar hanging on the wall, which is marked with appointments and reminders and the dates of his daughter’s basketball tournament; it’s _that_ kind of place. “Can’t,” he says. “I’m booked for the Apocalypse.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He gets a shrug in response. “I’ve got a clinic to look after. I’m sitting this tantrum out until you and Michael learn to behave yourselves.”

“I wonder what your son would say about that.”

Jacob grins. It’s not friendly or pleasant, and for a moment it turns the little clinic into something _different_. There are too many shadows with lives of their own.

Some of them look like wings.

“Touch my kids and I kill you,” Jacob says.

Lucifer tilts his head. “No need for that.”

He casts one last look at the wife’s picture as he leaves. Such a strong, happy, beautiful woman.

It’s easy to understand why someone would fall for her.

* * *

**iv. “1876”**

The picture was taken barely a decade after the Civil War. The men and women in it are an odd assortment for their time, not the least because of the weapons they’re proudly displaying. Something about their expressions and their postures puts one in mind of soldiers – which, in a way, is what they are.

It’s such a unique picture that it spends time in various state historical societies, where attempts are made to identify at least some of the people – the priest, perhaps, or the young man with the stethoscope around his neck, or the petite girl holding a revolver, or the man and woman at the very front who are both wearing Army coats. No one ever comes close to guessing.

Eventually it’s returned to the descendants of the original owners, who stick it in an attic between a broken record player and the Colt family album, circa 1923.

* * *

**v. “It’s been done before.”**

Mary Winchester isn’t the only child of hunters. Samuel and Deanna Campbell knew another couple around the same age: Howard and Celia, an old-money husband-and-wife team with an interest in the more cerebral aspects of hunting. They made good researchers, and their flashy, confident son – a few years younger than Mary – may be cocky and much too aware of his good looks, but no one would ever question his bravery or his instincts.

He turns up on her doorstep not long after her first child is born, with something stubborn and desperate well-hidden by his cheerful grin.

“So,” he says without preamble, “how’re we going to get out of these deals of ours?”

Mary slams the door in his face and leans against it until she no longer tastes bile in her throat. He rings her doorbell twice more and then walks away.

It’s the last time she ever sees him.

He’s not retired like she is. His wife’s level-headed and courageous and nowhere near as oblivious as John. All the same, the two of them made a deal of their own – in exchange for what, they’ll never say – and they’re determined to find a way out of it.

They almost pull it off, too. They hide their baby son for almost a year. When that doesn’t work, they fight back. They take the whole house down with them – and still, somehow, their son emerges unscathed from the wreckage.

Mary knows none of this, but if she did, she wouldn’t be surprised.

James was always too stubborn for his own good.

**Author's Note:**

> i. also Zuko is like the worst demon ever. ii. meanwhile Derek and Dean exchange notes about raising Very Important Siblings. iii. Zachariah would out-bureaucrat Aizen any day. iv. in the Wild West they called demons Reavers. v. and then one day Mr. Weasley happened to the Impala.


End file.
